


Qui Vivra Verra

by Penndragon27



Category: A Little Princess - Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Botany, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Hate to Love, Kissing, Literature, Mary's POV, Roommates, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penndragon27/pseuds/Penndragon27
Summary: All grown up, Mary and Sara are headed to Paris for university and become roommates. At first they clash and Mary is quite contrary about it, but all the time spent together leads to friendship and maybe something more...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I got this idea from captofthesswolfstar on tumblr. Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> The title is a French proverb that sort of means "the future will tell".

Mary Lennox stood outside the Saint Lazare Station. She had grown a lot since her youth, less skinny after years of spending time outdoors, cheeks now a rosy pink. Her long hair had gone from its previous yellow to a rich golden colour, kept out of her face in a neat plait down her back.

The only thing that didn’t change was the sour expression on her face, which, despite being less constant, was still one of her defining attributes.

This sour expression was on her face because she was standing on the curb, one hand keeping hold of her large carryon bag (the rest of her things having been sent ahead), the other in the air trying to hail a taxicab. Apparently Paris didn’t care about its future residents because not one driver stopped.

Finally, after nearly twenty minutes of waving, a taxicab pulled over next to her and Mary huffed. “Finally,” she muttered.

The driver got out to help her with her bag. He was older, with greying hair, and his face was impatient. This made Mary crosser.

“Où allez-vous, mademoiselle,” he asked once her bag was stowed.

As much time as she had spent studying French in preparation for university, she still wasn’t fluent. However, she could usually make a guess depending on the context.

“Universite de Paris, s'il vous plait,” her accent was atrocious and the driver gave her a judgemental look before nodding.

Mary sat in the back, closing the door with a loud slam. The sour expression was still on her face, which was probably why the driver hadn’t helped her in.

This made her even sourer. She had been so happy back in Misselthwaite. Her contrariness was greatly reduced and if she looked particularly hard she could find laugh lines forming. She was so much happier than that little girl who had arrived from India.

And yet, barely an hour after arriving in Paris, she was back to frowning. She hoped this wasn’t foreshadowing the rest of her stay.

She didn’t want to be sour. Here she was, in France, going to university to study botany, just like she’d been dreaming for past few years. Ever since she found that secret garden and her life was forever changed.

Inside, she was still excited about university. She was eager to learn everything she could about horticulture, even the science behind it.

Just the thought of her studies caused a smile to spread across her face, just in time for the taxicab to pull up in front of the school. The drive was surprisingly short, which Mary appreciated considering the rather awkward silence.

The driver blinked at her change in mood and opened the door for her before retrieving her bag. Reluctantly, Mary smiled at him in thanks before looking at her surroundings.

All the buildings were big and imposing, and everything smelled like wet concrete. The sky was blue, but it was clear it had rained recently. The buildings blocked her view of the Eiffel Tower, so aside from all the French signs; it didn’t seem that different from England. The buildings might’ve been a bit different, but she didn’t know enough about architecture to really notice.

Taking a deep breath, Mary smoothed down any stray hairs and adjusted her grip on her bag before climbing the steps to the main building, where a group of students were heading. They barely glanced her way and she tried to be subtle about following them, hoping they were going to the main office.

The inside of the building was a bit more intimidating, with loud chatter and students everywhere. Mary ducked her head and strode purposefully towards one of the desks.

A woman sat behind it and took one look at Mary before speaking in English.

“How can I help you?” Her accent was thick.

“It’s my first year here. I’m Mary Lennox.” Her voice was even. She would not give these uppity French people any reason to make fun of her.

The woman nodded before shuffling through her desk and pulling out a thick packet with Mary’s name on it.

“This has all your information. Classes, meals, residence. If you sent your luggage ahead, it should be in your room. Come back here if you have any questions and have a nice day.”

She said this all in monotone and Mary took the packet before turning to walk away, wanting to get out of the building as fast as possible.

She didn’t like it. Sure it was fancy and impressive, but it was also loud and busy and all official looking. She wanted to be back in Yorkshire, on the quiet countryside. She wanted the moors, not these crowded streets.

The packet did not include a map, so she wandered around for a bit, unwilling to ask for directions. A lot of the students she saw were perfectly dressed and walked with their noses in the air. Some were running, arms full of books, girls were clustered together, giggling, there were guys were pushing each other around.

She was just contemplating going back to the office building, when an English accent spoke next to her.

“Excuse me, mademoiselle. You seem a bit lost.”

Mary turned to see a handsome young man looking at her. His teeth were white and even, his brown hair perfectly combed. His smile was a bit self-assured and she wanted to tell him to leave her alone, but she really was lost.

“I can’t find my residence,” she stated, fighting to keep from frowning. She had planned on being less contrary.

“Well, I can help you out. All these French signs make things a bit confusing, hm?”

Mary furrowed her brow as she showed him the name of her residence.

“Well, it’s only to be expected, being in France and all.”

The man’s smile twitched and he stepped away from her. Perhaps she was being rude, but she didn’t really care what this guy thought of her. He laughed nervously before pointing towards a large building.

“Er, your residence is just behind there. I guess I’ll see you around.”

He left before Mary could respond and she simply huffed before setting off towards the building. She tried to keep her head up, not wanting to seem like the meek foreigner she probably was. It didn’t seem to matter, in the end, as she was generally ignored aside from the occasional cursory glance.

When she reached her building, she couldn’t help a small smile. Thanks to her uncle, she had very nice accommodations and she was slightly awestruck by what could probably pass for a castle. She hastily flipped through her packet to find out where her room was and found she was near the top.

She blinked in curiosity at the lift, not having seen them in Yorkshire, and tried to smile at the operator, figuring she’d probably see him often. He tipped his hat and she told him her floor.

“That is the same floor as the other mademoiselle I brought up. She talked a lot, very British.”

Mary nodded slowly. She wondered if she was to be her roommate. She hadn’t been looking forward to sharing a room with someone, but hopefully they wouldn’t be too bad.

Soon she was let out and facing the place she’d spend the next year. She murmured a quick “Merci” before opening the door and going inside.

The room was pretty. There was a lavishly decorated parlour with floral patterned sofas and spindly chairs that looked like they weren’t meant to be sat on. Against the wall was an elegant commode with a mirror hanging above it.

The whole space seemed like it wasn’t fit for actual use, despite being aesthetically pleasing. Mary hoped she wouldn’t break anything.

“Oh! Are you my roommate?”

Mary turned as a door opened to her left and a girl rushed out. She was very small and skinny, with dark hair curled softly and the queerest green eyes she had ever seen. They were wide with wonder, as though Mary were the most interesting thing.

“I suppose so,” Mary tried for a smile, but it was difficult with the lump in her throat. The girl didn’t seem to mind, though.

“Oh, I’m so excited! I love having a roommate. It’s sort of like an immediate best friend. I’m Sara, by the way. Sara Crewe, from London.”

“Mary Lennox,” she managed to get out, still slightly overwhelmed.

“Oh, that’s brilliant! I’ve just been unpacking. I hope you don’t mind that I took this room. They seem pretty similar, although the views show different sides of the university, I guess. I wonder what would happen if you looked out both windows at the same time, if you could. It’s sort of like when you close one eye and see only one side of your nose. I actually read a book once about blind men and an elephant and how each could only describe what they could feel and so they each described the elephant differently. Don’t you find that fascinating?”

During her ramble, Sara had barely paused for breath and Mary felt rather flummoxed. She had met people who talked a lot. Martha talked all the time! But this girl, this Sara Crewe from London, was by far one of the queerest people she had ever met.

“Um, I should probably start unpacking.”

“Of course! Your trunks are in the corner there. What are you studying? Or have you not decided yet? I wanted to study everything, but I already know that I want to be a writer so I’m taking as many literature courses as I can, mostly French. I can’t wait to start! I’ve never found a book I didn’t like and I hope I won’t now.”

Mary turned away to grimace. Of course she wanted to be a writer, with all those words at her disposal. She went for her things, hoping Sara was done talking. When she turned back, Sara had disappeared back into her room and Mary let out a sigh of relief.

She had no idea how she would survive an entire year with Sara Crewe as her roommate.


	2. Chapter 2

Mary’s first couple of weeks at university were simultaneously amazing and terrible.

The amazing part was definitely her classes. She loved studying horticulture and as it was so scientific, most of her lectures were in English. She struggled through her French ones, though, and figured she should probably make a helpful friend.

And therein lay the terrible part. She was the only girl in most of her classes and she always got odd looks from the other girls when they found out she was interested in a science as a legitimate career.

She didn’t mind that so much, having never spent much time with girls her age, preferring to talk to Dickon and Colin. The boys here, however, were no Dickon and Colin.

Well, no one was really like Dickon, but her classmates were a startling reminder. They were all impeccably dressed and looked down their noses at the idea of a woman making it in sciences. She had hoped to find someone like Colin, who, despite being a bit arrogant, had a good heart.

This was not so. Once she had seen the young man who had given her directions and he had given her a queer look before turning to whisper to the girls surrounding him. She had glared before turning away in a huff.

Despite all this, she was not lacking for conversation. Any time spent in her room meant Sara would show up and try to talk to her. It happened less often as classes went on and Sara would often be found reading intensely, but that didn’t mean she would deprive Mary of a detailed review of whatever it was she was reading. This was the case one Saturday afternoon when Mary returned to their room after lunch.

“Oh, Mary! You’re back,” Sara sat curled up on the sofa, a heavy tomb on her lap. “I think I’ve found it: A book I don’t like.”

Mary hummed noncommittally and Sara went on.

“We’ve been looking at Victor Hugo and his books are so long, which normally I don’t mind, but he describes everything. I’m twenty pages into _Notre-Dame de Paris_ and he’s still describing the castle. I recognize his talent, but Victor Hugo is much worse than Charles Dickens when it comes to prattling on.”

Mary snorted to herself. “Sounds like you all have a lot in common.”

There was a pause and Mary froze at the realization that she had said that out loud. She turned slowly, wary of Sara’s reaction. Annoying as she was, she didn’t want to live with someone who hated her for the rest of the year.

Sara was quiet, queer eyes wide in shock. Mary waited for her to respond, but Sara just blinked before returning to her book.

Perplexed, Mary went to her room and fell forward onto her bed. She wasn’t good at this, making friends. It was easier in Yorkshire where everyone said what they thought and Mary knew what was going on in their heads. Here, it was subtle glances and a slight twitch of a finger and Mary was lost.

She rolled over and sat up, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. Taking a few deep breaths, she walked over to her desk, where her writing supplies were. She would write a letter home, tell Colin and Dickon all about university life. Then she would get to look forward to their response.

She decided to address it to both of them, as Colin would be helping Dickon read it either way. They had tried to help him improve his reading, but he hated sitting still to look at paper. This way Mary didn’t have to work so hard to make her handwriting neat and printed or use small words.

After a brief pause to consider what to say, Mary began writing.

_Dear Colin and Dickon,_

_Paris is interesting. The food they serve is different and I can’t spell or pronounce half of it, but it tastes good. I have learned from experience, though, not to ask what things are. Apparently, the French serve a lot of offal (which certainly lives up to its homophone)._

_My classes are lots of fun. One of my professors is a rose breeder and I love listening to him talk about it. I’m thinking of specializing in that. It also helps that he lectures in English, so I actually understand him. I’m starting to regret not putting more effort into my French lessons, but I’m managing._

_I haven’t made many friends yet, being my contrary self, but I don’t care that much as I spend most of my time studying. I can’t believe I complained so much about my governess when it was nothing compared to this!_

_I have a roommate, but we’re not really friends. She seems to be a bit of a ditz, but she keeps out of my way for the most part, so I should be able to manage. You should here her talk, though. She is definitely the queerest person I’ve ever met._

_I miss you all terribly, and I hope you are caring for our garden. Give my love to al at Misselthwaite,_

_Mary_

When she finished, Mary sealed the letter and addressed it. Sighing, she sat for a moment, thinking about Yorkshire and Misselthwaite and their beautiful garden. She missed it. Paris smelled like brick and steam. The university did have a garden, but it couldn’t compare to theirs.

Eyes suddenly stinging, Mary furiously blinked back tears. She couldn’t linger on this. She was here to learn, and she was. Her classes were interesting and she was reading her books more for fun than necessity. She didn’t care that she had no one to talk to. She was doing just fun.

Steeling herself, Mary rubbed her eyes and stood up before grabbing her letter to post.

In the parlour, she found Sara still on the sofa, but her book was closed and instead she was writing. Unable to help her curiosity, Mary peeked over and her eyes widened in shock.

“You’re writing in Hindustani!”

Sara jumped, mucking up the word she was in the middle of writing, and turned her large eyes on Mary, who had wilted in embarrassment. Sara didn’t notice, and instead seemed to light up.

“You know it?”

Mary clutched her letter tightly, feeling nervous. “Um, sort of. I lived in India until I was ten, so I recognize a few words.”

Sara seemed to brighten even more. “Oh! I lived there until I was seven, then I had to move to London. But at home Ram Dass, he’s a Lascar, always helps me to practice my Hindustani and so I promised to write to him to keep up the practice and so he could understand better.”

Mary felt a little strange at finding something in common with Sara and nodded politely. She turned to go, but Sara continued talking.

“Have you been back since you were ten? I went back once when I was fourteen, and I might visit again after I graduate with my Uncle Tom. I can’t wait! India is just so beautiful and seems as though it were a magical land from a story. After I read the _Arabian Nights_ , I couldn’t help but look for djinn everywhere, even though they take place in a slightly different area. Didn’t you just love India?”

Mary held back a snort at the realization that they weren’t alike at all.

“I hated it. It was too hot and dry.”

Sara’s face fell a bit and Mary’s stomach clenched. She found herself quickly adding “I had an ayah though, who told me interesting stories.”

Sara lit up again. “Oh, India has the best stories. It’s what inspired me to be a writer, even back then.”

She seemed to be about to start another long rant, so Mary quickly held up her letter with a nervous smile.

“I should go post this.”

Sara closed her mouth and gave a sheepish smile. “Right, sorry.”

Mary just gave a shrug before turning to leave. At least Sara listened to criticism. Maybe she could be Mary’s friend, if she didn’t annoy Mary every other day.

Fighting a smile, Mary ran off to post her letter.


End file.
